Friday, October 31, 2014

Normal is so overrated. At least that’s what seventeen-year-old
Kate Triumph tells herself everyday. But the truth is she lives in constant
fear that someone will discover how not normal she really is. With her
startling speed and her unusual ability to heal, Kate believes she’s something
of a freak.

Then Andrew Shore arrives.

He claims he’s her father, sticks around for a few days and leaves
her a plane ticket. “Come to Mercer Island,” he says. “Give me a chance to get
to know you.” Soon Kate is floundering in a world of new: new address, new car,
new high school and, of course, new father. Not to mention Zack, her intriguing
new neighbor, who makes her want to abandon her steadfast rule of never
allowing anyone to get too close. But when she discovers someone is trying to
kill her, life for Kate gets a bit more complicated. And a lot less normal.

I’m not used
to the wetness of the road, the slick gravel under my feet. I concentrate on
the neighborhood around me, memorizing each street sign I pass so I can find my
way back to Andrew’s house. But soon the fog moves in, swallowing first the
houses and then each and every last street sign. It closes in on me like a
cocoon of white and my chest tightens with alarm.

I have no
idea where I am. Or how to get home.

I pull my
cell phone out of my pocket but it’s dead. I forgot to charge it last night.

I’m cursing
my stupidity when just off in the distance I hear it.

Footsteps.

I turn
around and wait for a figure to arrive — hopefully someone who might know where
Andrew lives — but the footsteps stop.

All I can
hear is my breathing and a bird chirping somewhere in the neighborhood.

I take a few
more steps and when I hear them echo back I pause again.

Tiny tingles
of unease trickle down my back but the fog continues to keep its secrets.

I wait for
the footsteps to catch up, still convinced they’re helpful rather than
dangerous. They’re moving slowly, almost hesitant, as they close the gap
between us.

I have to
admit as much as I want to see whoever is out there, the idea of someone
breaking out of the fog so close to me kind of freaks me out.

I start
walking faster this time, almost a jog, but with each step I take, the
footsteps echo back twice. Finally, when our steps are in sync I stop and peer
through the fog.

I imagined
it. That’s the only explanation. I shake it off and start running again, my
pace much slower than normal. Then I stop. Nothing. I take four more steps.
Silence. A couple more. More silence.

I take a
deep breath and relax. This was a stupid idea, running in fog. Next time I’ll
know better.

Something
sharp is poking my foot from inside my shoe and when I bend down to investigate
I find a small white pebble has wedged itself between my shoe and sock. It only
takes a second to dig it out and toss it into the road, but when I straighten
up I hear it again.

Footsteps.
Slow at first and then they quicken to a run.

Are these
footsteps new? Or are they the same ones from before? I decide to wait it out
before I start moving again.

A twig snaps
directly behind me and then the footsteps stop.

I spin
around. Nothing. No face, no motion in the fog.

I open my
mouth to call out once more but something tells me to stay silent.

Shari Arnold grew up in California and Utah but now resides
in Connecticut, with her husband and two kids, where she finds it
difficult to trust a beach without waves. She writes Young Adult
fiction because it's her favorite. And occasionally she takes photographs.

A witch—or four. The world’s most powerful spell. The creation of the unnatural.

Her undying love for Draco.

A war is brewing between the Light, the
Dark and the Unknown.

In the midst of it all stands
Sarenah. Her memories have returned as
she rewinds the past in order to move forward with her future so she can
reclaim what, or who, belongs only to her, but will she be able to accept the
disturbing secrets that go along with the reminiscence?

In the midst of dragging trees, I
saw Sarenah sitting on the back porch, her dress hiked up around her thighs
from the heat as she was thumbing through a book. She wasn’t even acknowledging the fact that I
was there, nor did she care that I could see her bare legs. She was being totally inappropriate and rude
at the same time … and I liked it. I
felt intrigued to my very core, so much that I had to go over and say something
to her.

“Hey,” I mumbled.

Without looking up, she reiterated,
“Hey.”

My frustration grew as I clenched my
fingers into my palms. “Is that book so
interesting that you can’t even talk to me?”

That had gotten her attention. She slammed the book shut and stood up, the
dress falling back down around her ankles.

“Are you so interesting that I can’t
even read my book?” Her dark eyes were
wild and she was glaring at me as if she wanted me to spontaneously
combust. “Don’t you have a job to
do? Look at this mess.” Her eyes moved to the yard. “All of these branches everywhere. My uncle will have your hide.”

She was so angry. I couldn’t help myself. I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back
of my hand and busted out laughing.

Sarenah’s hands moved to her
hips. I thought she was about to hit me.

I threw up hands up in defense. “I’m …”
The laughter got the best of me again.
“I’m sorry, Sarenah.” I flashed
her an apologetic grin. “It’s just, I
think this is the first time I’ve ever heard you talk so much and you’re
spatting off at me like some crazy person.”

Her gaze had softened then. She bit her bottom lip so she wouldn’t crack
a smile herself. “A crazy person, huh?”

I nodded, stopping to really get a
good look at Sarenah’s face, her stunning features and the way her dark eyes
popped out in a terrific way. This was Rebecca’s sister? I had been missing out. Sarenah’s strange ways evaporated into
enticement before me.

I spent the rest of the evening
listening to Sarenah talk as I took all of it in. The tree branches were still scattered all
over the yard, but I doubted her uncle would be back anytime soon to discover
the mess. Everyone knew he lived at the
saloon. She talked mostly about her
parents. She had a deep ache from the
loss inside of her. She was in a great
deal of pain that I felt my own heart hurting along with hers, for her. I found myself wrapping my arm around her and
her actually letting me get away with it, but I wasn’t in it to try to make a
move. I found myself wanting to comfort
Sarenah, tell her everything was going to be okay. I wanted her to trust me and continue to
confide in me. She leaned her head
against my shoulder, being content to be there with me. It felt incredible as if I had been able to
tame her so easily. She was feisty but
now so serene. I could’ve lived in that
moment forever and been completely content to just be lucky enough to be near
her, to smell the flower fragrance in her hair as it fell down across my
arm. I rubbed her shoulder with my
fingertips. She started humming, the
sound making the chaos within me only increase.
It was in that moment that I had leaned over and my lips found hers. It had been brief but magnificent, and I was
wondering if my mind was ever going to be the same.

Sara V. Zook is a paranormal/fantasy
writer. She is the author of the Strange in Skin Trilogy, Clipped, Evanescent,
Book 1 in The Sempiternal Series and A Magic Within. She lives in Pennsylvania
with her 3 small children and husband.

Thursday, October 30, 2014

Reluctant psychic Gypsy Shields—she
prefers the term "intuition consultant"—finds herself in trouble
when, on her way home from a blind date, she interrupts a kidnapping in
progress. She attempts to intervene, and her heroics are repaid with a
collision between the attacker's van and a brick wall. She awakens in the
hospital, paralyzed on her left side and unable to speak. This also means she's
unable to share her vital information as a witness. Fortunately, she is able to
use her telepathic connection with her niece to throw a line out to a police
detective she knows: Connor Reardon, her blind date.

Connor will do anything to protect
Gypsy, and he listens to her claims of psychic power willingly, as he's
concealing certain powers of his own. Nor are they all he's concealing. Gypsy
senses a part of her new ally's mind is closed to her—what she cannot know is
that Connor suspects the kidnapper is someone close to him, and the kidnapping
victim holds secrets that will tear through Connor's department, putting
careers and lives at risk. Including Gypsy, still in hospital and vulnerable as
the attacker turns his sights on her once again.

Can she use her powers to track down
the perpetrator and prevent her own murder?

Excerpt

As a
telepath, I pick up on feelings and instinct more than most. Other people like
to call me a psychic medium, but I’m not really comfortable with the label. Apart from the fact that I do it for love,
not money, I’m sure once someone learns I’m a telepath they conjure up images
of dodgy fraudsters on stage at mass events, feeding grieving families what
they desperately need. I’d rather not expose myself to more ridicule than
necessary. My abilities happened almost by accident—apparently my grandmother
was ‘fey,’ as my mother enjoyed mentioning.

I was
sure the pinging, nagging doubt had something to do with Aaron’s home life.
“What about you, Gypsy? What do you do?” Connor relaxed his posture, the glass
poised before his mouth. He had taken on a different look, probably from the
wine, or even better, from unfulfilled lust.

“I write
business plans. I’ve also been told I have pretty damn good intuition.”

That
seemed to spark Connor’s interest. He
pulled at the other earlobe.

“Oh yeah?
What does your intuition tell you about me, then?”

“That you
seem like a nice enough guy.”

Connor
moistened his lips, which quivered with what I suspected was amusement as he
sat legs wide apart

“And?”

“And
you’re fishing for compliments that I’m not going to give you just yet.”

Connor
threw his head back, indulging in a belly laugh. The rich, throaty sound filled
me with pleasure. A smile I couldn’t suppress burst through.

“That’s a
fair call, Gypsy, fair call.”

The
silence was a comfortable one, our shared joke establishing the early threads
of friendship.

About the Author

Andrea Drew has been a commercial copy writer and
resume writer for over a decade.

She's written for celebrity stylists, assisted
business coaches and start-ups, written grants for not for profits, delivered
marketing presentations to business owners, and attends Australian writing
conventions.

Her self-published book "Pro Resumes Made
Easy" has been downloaded over 40,000 times.

Andrea has one husband (more than enough), three
kids, a pet rock (her daughters not hers), and a house in the suburbs, where
she's hard at work on the second novel in the Gypsy series.

Email her at andrea@andrea-drew.com.

Gypsy Hunted her first fiction novel (her first
suspense thriller set in her home town of Melbourne Australia) is available for
pre-order on Amazon prior to release on October 28 2014.

Thirty-two-year-old Richard Franchitti didn’t
believe in love at first sight until he met free-spirited Catherine and started
a brand new life. A devoted father and husband, Richard fought to keep his
family together when it would have been easier to walk away.

Tragedy left him with unfinished business.

Now a disembodied spirit, Richard relives his
most important days. From the beginnings of unconditional love, to the joy of
his daughter’s birth, and all of the difficult times in between, each treasured
moment brings him closer to answering the question:

“Why am I still here?”

He was born Richard Franchitti, but his friends
call him Ricky. Welcome to his funeral.

Matt Schiariti is an Engineer by profession,
guitar legend in his own mind, and would-be author, time permitting. When he’s
not writing, he’s reading. When he’s not reading, he’s enjoying a beer sporting
a fancy name on the label. When he’s not enjoying a fancy-named beer, he’s most
likely reading some more. Sometimes he does all three at once, to disastrous
effect.

Matt lives in southern New Jersey with his wife,
two children, and insane dog. Funeral with a View is his second published
novel, but not his last.

I’d met Catherine Maddox (now the widow Catherine Frachitti) through a friend of mine. My best friend, in point of fact. Bill Henly.While they were dating.That tidbit must sound inherently evil. There are rules, especially among guys. The Man Code, to be more specific. Every male on the planet is born with these rules branded into his DNA. Don’t date a friend’s ex, don’t have sex with a friend’s girlfriend, so on and so forth.Let the record show that I am no home wrecker! Bill and Catherine had been seeing each other when I met her. Nothing serious, and for reasons only known to them, their relationship didn’t last. After Bill did the requisite guy thing (read: talked post-breakup smack about her), I did the right thing and asked him if he’d be okay with me asking her out.The conversation went something like this:Me: So, you’re not dating Cat anymore, huh?Bill: Nope.Me: Um, would it be cool if I asked her out?Bill: Yeah, sure.It was a conversation for the ages. A manly conversation of epic proportions. It may seem flimsy to an outsider, but to guys it was volumes’ worth.I let the breakup embers fade, and a few weeks later, when I’d mustered up the testicular fortitude, I asked Catherine out. After a moment’s thought, she said yes. And the rest, as they say, is history.Dating Catherine put no apparent stress on my relationship with Bill. Good looking in an All-American way, he never lacked for female companionship. At six-foot-five and almost as broad, he towered over my meager five-foot-eight. He’d played football in high school and college, earning an athletic scholarship to Princeton University, but blew out his knee in his second year. His spare time no longer filled with practices and games, he hunkered down and focused on his studies which paved the way to his future career as a financial advisor. Still, he remained an ever faithful workout freak. The combination of good looks, muscular build, and his large salary lured many a willing woman into his bed. Catherine was no exception, but that wasn’t entirely Bill’s doing.The story is a simple one. Back in the day the three of us were nigh inseparable. Catherine and I were always double-dating with Bill and his love du jour. Even if he wasn’t seeing anybody (the exception to the rule), the three of us would go out to eat, see movies, hang out on lawn chairs in the summer drinking concoctions with little umbrellas in them.It was on one such occasion when things took a change for the pornographic. I’ll never forget that day as long as I live. Or as long as I’m dead.That day is where this story truly starts.

The 3rd and final book in the Songbird Trilogy by Lisa Edward is now LIVE!!!

Blurb

My name is Tara O’Connell, and I’ve
always believed we control our own fate. That life is a journey with many
roads, and the choices we make can shape our future.

Life has presented me with two paths
and I’ve chosen one.

Was it right? Did I make the best
decision?

After the uncertainty of the last
twelve months, my destiny is now crystal-clear to me. I have a man I love more
than words can express, a thriving business, and the best friends anyone could
ask for. But just when I thought I could put the turmoil of my past behind me
and move on, a life-changing phone call has rocked me to the core and turned my
life upside-down once more.

To make matters worse, influences
outside my control have taken hold and are shattering my perfect world.

But some things are worth fighting
for.

Dreams
can come true and I’ll do everything in my power to make them happen. But
dreams can also be smashed into tiny pieces, and no matter how hard we fight or
how hard we wish for something to be, sometimes with the hand we’ve been dealt,
we can never win.

While Lisa Edward has called Melbourne Australia home for her
entire life, she has lived and worked in England, and travelled through most
parts of Europe and the United States. She loves nothing more than spending
time with her husband and beautiful daughter, or curling up into the early
hours of the morning with a great novel. By day, Lisa works in the analytical
IT field, so relishes the opportunity to foster her creative side through
writing. Her deep appreciation for literature was nurtured from a young age,
being taught to respect books and get lost in their stories. She enjoys reading
honest and realistic novels that are relatable, thought provoking and leave a
lasting impression. She can’t write without music playing, using the emotions
from different songs to invoke that of her characters. Lisa takes inspiration
from her own life experiences, the people around her and those she has met in
her travels.

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Some of the books that are featured on this blog have been provided by the author, publisher, NetGalley or other third party sites in exchange for an honest review. I receive no monetary compensation or other consideration for any reviews, and the opinions expressed in the reviews on this site are done with honesty and are not swayed by any outside factors.